American Pie

One of the things I thoroughly enjoy about America is their tradition, and the support thereof. Sure, we have holidays, and traditions, most are celebrated by the majority, but others by the minority, partly justifiable to ethnicity differences in our rainbow nation, but other parts disappointingly lacking because of enthusiasm and support. Due to the vast changes in seasons, seasonal traditions are more prominent here in the states. One such season would be apple season, which also falls under the pumpkin season that forges the Halloween famous for its Jack-O-Lanterns. Unequipped for mud and rain like the rest of the gumboot community, I was encouraged to wear takkies, (sneakers) much to my social status scolding. A 20 minute drive to Silverman farms, where people as far as New York come to play, busy and buzzing. As part of our monthly cluster meeting, we were sponsored the $8 bag for apple picking, stood in line together as a family and waited to board the tractor for the ride through the orchard and to the drop off. The kids loved the bumpy dirt roads as the driver was anything but conservative.

 

Hopping off, we were given a brief rundown on the do’s and don’ts and were free to roam the trees and bite into apples as we please, warned of the repercussions of one too many. Bags full, we were back in line for the tractor ride back to the festival. Candy apples were enjoyed by the kids, 100% apple cider was a big hit, not only for us but for the copious amounts of bees. Picking our pumpkins was the next big step, being kids, competition in full force, the biggest was of course the best, watching them struggle as they attempted to lift pumpkins bigger than their own body mass proved persistence. Joe had the wheelbarrow and was picking on a more appearance based spectrum rather than size, and picked one that was inbred.

 

 Wheelbarrow full, it was time to head home to dice our apples and make one badass apple pie that was thoroughly devoured with whipped cream. Apple pie, America’s favourite pie, DONE !

Rapidly falling into God's beauty...

The Chinese bus tours, something you hear a lot about in the Au Pair community, primarily because they are inexpensive, and also because they are short and fit into our weekend off time frame, was a home run this weekend. Niagara Falls, the collective name for three waterfalls that straddle the international border between the Canadian province of Ontario and the U.S state of New York, renowned for its beauty and source of power, was our destination tour of choice. A package that offered a buy 2 get 1 free, discounted us into what would be a 4:30 am rise, to make our way to the train station, to catch the Metro North into the city, catch the green line downtown then walk 13 blocks in Chinatown, to meet at Christie street at sharply 7:30am, was a dreaded yet successful journey.

 

Slightly chilly but warmed by excitement we waited for our tour guide leader to stick a cheesy seat number sticker to our shirts and point us in the direction of what would be the bus we spent most of the weekend on. Climbing aboard, we were outnumbered by the adequately named tour company, to be thankfully huddled together in our four seats, Jacorine and Alida, myself and Danielle. We headed North, IPods charged, books in hand, to travel hours to our first destination of Thousand Islands, an archipelago that shares both Canadian and U.S waters. Climbing aboard Uncle Sam’s boat tour, beanies and jackets plentiful, we were guided by a lovely lady who provided a light hearted stance on the facts of the islands, in which totaled 1864. The communication barrier of sitting down if you were on top, was lost in translation in frustrating ways. Learning about the islands, crossing the underwater Canadian border, viewing the smallest international bridge in the world provided for an interesting day. My favourite story would be the Island of the Yale swim team members of the Skull and Bone committee, in which they spent every summer on the grounds of this remarkable Island, chosen by prestige and reputation, from George Bush to Senator Heinz, I could only imagine the young carefree spirits of men that have made history, running around shirtless oblivious to their future impacts.

 

Time constraints had us off the boat, back on the bus and off to our hotel for the night, which I was pleasantly surprised about. Exhausted, and unable to sleep like the dead like our companions Jack and Alida, who slept 80% of the journey, we had 6 hours sleep and were to meet in the Lobby at 6:00am. Delirious laughter and giggles powered by fatigue, lead for an enjoyable evening in the hotel room.

 

 Freezing and ready to face the day, we devoured the second half of our subway foot longs and climbed aboard our now very familiar seats, to get cosy for a few more hours. Having thankfully denied the $11 Niagara Falls DVD summary, which we candidly stated could easily be watched on YouTube for free, due to the rushing time clauses, we had the opportunity to snap a bunch of awesome pictures of the falls during this time. The sun just rising, and hitting the water like a mirrored gesture from God, the orange, red, yellow and brown leaves of the fall providing a gorgeous backdrop to the already gorgeous rapids. The constant cool mist showered us delicately as we viewed the powerful vista of mass amounts of water pouring over by the gallons, a sight so beautiful yet profoundly dangerous and alive.

 

Moving over to the ticket stands for the Maid of the Mist, we huddled by the hoards, as the crowd waited anxiously to participate in the last weekend of such a trip due to the winter weeks. Prepared with our recently purchased gumboots we got the occasional compliment from employees, as we pulled a sneaky move to jump the elevator queues. We joined the small pink marshmallow zigzag formation that we had viewed from the top, as we entered a tented office and exited the other side, and too, transformed into a pink marshmallow. The pink was in aid of breast cancer awareness.

 

Freezing toes and fingers, we fiddled and probed at our new attire as we stepped onto the Maid of the Mist, to begin the boat ride that was exhilarating and magical. The world of course being as small as it is, would be a group of Afrikaans speaking tourists beside us, I took the opportunity of the language barrier to dive in when the gentleman proclaimed a photo “ vir almal wat my verstaan “ to which I announced “ Ek verstaan “. It was shock and laughter and embrace as we conversed with our familiar people while we were experiencing a wonderful journey. Being at the bottom of the falls was truly majestic, the pure size, power and magnitude of the falls itself was worth every minute on those upright, too close for comfort bus seats. Not getting as wet as I anticipated, the 20 minute boat trip came to an end, and we made our way back to the bus for our deadline. Of course we were all on time, but lost 30 minutes due to, which I spoke so passionately about, always that one person who would be late. It was the next brutal 10 hours that I would like to erase, as we made the journey home, climbing into bed only after midnight. Already worth every second when I look back...

 

 

Camping in the Cape

Feeling well established in my little town of Weston, my feet firmly on the ground, my bearings well in place, friendships growing and travels expanding, I feel comfortable in my current life. Having a few treasures at my doorstep, short weekend trips are fun and reasonable. Having met Danielle, a South African, from Namibia, I find myself making a friend for life, which is not easy to do on such a journey. Her sense of travel and adventure provides me with much excitement and relief to know we share interests that have already mapped a bond. A camping in Cape Cod invitation was therefore well accepted. A site where a pitched tent, lanterns and already blown up king size mattresses are provided, the acceptance grew even more so. Five girls, five hour trip, one night, one great memory. We were welcomed into our camp site by what was and still remains a mystery, of the she man experience. Having watched a number of horror movies filmed in various settings, this scene sent flashes through my mind of “ The hills have eyes “ and “ Wrong Turn “ scenarios meshed together to create an imagination illusion of what later events would deem inevitable and explainable. Nevertheless we ‘checked‘ in, and followed the instructions and the map, to what would be the next 20 minutes of circles, missed exits, déjà vu, heated discussions and debates, to eventually find our site. We did some foot exploring and then headed to Providence for some lunch and shopping. We stopped at the lighthouse on the way, to revel in some island history and culture courtesy.

 

 

 

We accumulated handfuls of quarters for the pricier than usual parking meter and walked the colourful and busy streets.

Stepping into some unique stores, and striking gold when the familiar flag of home, slightly tattered, blowing in the salty breeze, pulled at some heart strings and resulted in some squeals and shrieks. We popped into the “Karoo Café” to be delighted but all the South African favourites in merchandise.

 

 

Searching for a typical Cape Cod dining experience we were recommended the Lobster Pot, which was clearly the place to be having collected our lobster shaped vibrating alert pad, a 20 minute wait, we entered a buzzing ambiance of bibed patrons and satisfied smirks. The tempting drop a penny and win a lobster ploy of the shot glass in the jug of water made me drop lip like a kid denied a toy at the store. Nevertheless I indulged in the famous bowl of Tim’s Clam Chowder, 4 time winner of the Cape Cod Chowder festival, and 3 time winner of the Boston Chowder festival, a winner indeed, delicious. The Lobster Avocado Cocktail was my next choice, colourfully presented in a stack of succulent sensations. Satisfied and concerned about our parking expiring we headed back to find a stop n shop, a liquor store, and smors ingredients, to make it back before sunset, to begin our night time camp fire experience. Who said you need a man for the outdoors, we had the perfect evening of melted marshmallow magic, cold beer, old school music charts, singing, dancing, fire, stories, laughter and pure happiness, in the middle of the woods. A few moments of weakness during the night, with “Blaire witch“ references, lead a certain individual to call for comfort in which the next morning’s greeting of cold dismal rain provided some light hearted banter.

 

We showered and made our way to the town of Mystic, where we captured some beauty of yet another preserved little town of tales prevalent in the states. Another stop, lead us to the “Submarine Force, Library and Museum” in which we climbed aboard the world's first nuclear powered vessel, first ship to go to the North Pole, and first submarine to journey "20,000 Leagues under the sea." Listening to the facts over a speaker controller, snapping some shots and having a few marvelling moments at the lack of space in the vessel itself, provided a fascinating tour. All in all a great trip with some great girls.